The Granite Army
by Hoppiholla
Summary: It had begun here, and it was going to end here. She had fought through it all, they won, they destroyed them all, but...there are some wounds that do not heal. -Shakarian, rated for language. Read and review!-


_Show me the granite army_

_The stones to mark the dead_

_Remind me who I'm fighting for_

_And who I lost of those I lead_

_I'm can't let myself join them yet_

_But somewhere ahead there's the death I've met_

_Part of me wants to run faster than time_

_And speed to the day when my sun finally sets..._

It was quiet on the hill. The only sounds were the wind and her breathing. Even that was nearly silent.

This was to be her last visit. The granite headstones stretched down the side of the hill, back towards the ancient-looking colony. Here was a separate section, fenced off, where the victims were left. All of them had the same date of death. All of them were people she knew.

Her hair was almost as long as it had been. It wasn't quite down to her shoulders, but it whipped around her head like a bonfire in a gale. She had let it keep growing all through the war, the entire time she was fighting, as a tribute to her long lost past. Perhaps she had known this day was coming. Perhaps she wanted it to be the same as when she left. It had lengthened until the war was over, until they had won, until she could care about everything other than the Reapers again. Her eyes were closed as she knelt before a pair of headstones. Tears leaked out the corners.

The headstones read **Lex and Nassa Shepard. A tribute to humanity**. It was the same white marble square as the others, but it had two new sunflowers leaning against it. She added another for good measure, then opened her eyes.

In her lap lay a worn pistol.

It had been with her since day one of this insane lifetime, since the very first approach to Eden Prime. She would have liked to go there, go there in peacetime, but she didn't think if she left, she could come back with the same intent again. Her now-empty reserve of courage wouldn't let her.

Sadly, she laid a hand on it. It had been her loyal friend, one that had somehow come through even after she died the first time and stayed through her second life. It was important to her. Everything about this scene was important to her.

Too many people under her care had died, from the very beginning. Her parents. Her squad on Akuze. Jenkins. Kaidan. All of these had been her responsibility, and then she had had millions to command in the Reaper War. But the most important of these millions had died too, fighting for the organic cause. Thane. Legion. Samara. She owed them this. Was it such a big step, to die here, after she'd won? After all she had lived through? Such a big step, to give her life too?

_You're not giving it, you fool, you're taking it!_

She shook her head. Soldiers only took others lives. At the end, everyone forgot the person and only saw the hero. Forgot what was sacrificed for them by the warrior, and how much it hurt.

_Come on, you've got work left to do!_

Nothing left. Nothing left they needed her for, anyway. They had _won,_ remember? _We won!_

_Not if you give up now! What will Anderson do without you?_

She flinched. Such a strange conversation to be having with her survivor self. But this was not that person's decision—this decision wasn't to be made by the Commander, it was to be made by Lessa, the broken child from Mindoir. The one who had had to hide for so long.

_What about Garrus?_

She stopped cold in the middle of bringing up the pistol. Garrus...her heart ached at the thought of leaving him, her friend through everything. Garrus was smart, and strong. He would make it through without her. He had to. She had to do this for herself.

_You know how he feels about you. Imagine what you're doing to him. How would you feel if you were the reason he never got to see Shepard again?_

Shepard. That name had become a synonym for a goddess. Godhood she didn't deserve. She wasn't Shepard any more. After it all, after the battles, the loss, and the victories, wasn't she allowed to be weak? Hadn't she earned it?

_No. Never. You can **never**__give up, come on, get **up!**_

But it was time to sleep. It would be so much easier...

_Easy isn't right, and you know it! Get up, go do something with your life!_

"Shepard!"

Her eyes closed again and the gun lay against her heart. She didn't want to keep going. She wanted it to be easy, now, but Commander Shepard wouldn't let herself die. _It's not about you, anymore, nobody needs me! _

_No one needs you? What about Anderson? And Joker?_

The pistol quivered. But this had to be about her. Just her. She could do something for herself, now, now that the Reapers were gone. She could stop worrying about everyone else.

"Shepard, _wait!"_

_And Jacob, and Ashely, and Grunt? Who'll stop him from crushing people daily without his battlemaster?_

A small smile came to her lips. Grunt had always made her laugh—discreetly of course. But he was a big boy now, and he could get along on his own. Everyone could. One little woman wasn't going to make or break the galaxy.

_They'll miss you, and mourn you, you fucker, now get up and put that gun away!_

No. This was one decision she could be selfish about. At the end of all things, she could be selfish.

_What about Talitha, who will look out for her? And what about Liara?_

Now that was unfair. Liara was just as strong as Garrus, and could live without Shepard in her life. _Just leave me alone, I deserve this!_

_You __**deserve**__ it? You don't deserve anything if you're willing to give it all up!_

Her face became sad. She had to do this, to end her own pain. She had ended everyone else's problems, why couldn't she end her own? A line from an ancient copy of _Lord of the Rings_ came to mind. _There are wounds that do not heal. _It was true, every word. There were some memories she couldn't bury deep enough. The pistol returned to her heart, turned inwards this time. She had left behind her armor. She couldn't risk something going wrong, not now.

"_Shepard, stop!"_

The anguished cry was ignored. She was alone, and she had to let the world fend for itself. It was too hard to be the hero. Instead of feeling triumphant, she just felt tired, felt broken into little tiny pieces, pushed and pulled in every direction, and some of the pieces had gotten lost. _I've already died once. It won't be as bad, because I'm finished anyway._

_Listen to the voice, you piece of sappy shit! _

She came out of her fog for a moment. Her head turned toward the sound, dully wondering what it was now, and who it would be to spread the news: Commander Shepard was dead. A bullet moved faster than any warning.

"_Shepard, wait, stop, you can't!"_

Someone blue was running towards her, the sprint of a desperate person, armor glinting in the sun. No hair. Liara? No, the blue was too cobalt for her asari skin tone. Who...no, couldn't be...she hadn't left any notes, just where she would be..._Garrus, what...?_

He didn't talk anymore as he vaulted over the fence into the cemetery. He was tall, nearly seven feet, and the two foot barrier was easy for him. She didn't look up again as more tears fell from her chin. The pistol was already in place, all it took was one movement of her finger, and it would be over...

Strong gloved hands grabbed her wrist and sent the gun flipping away. She slowly grabbed at it, much too slow to catch it. Her hands fell into her lap, and he put his around them, but she didn't look up. She had hesitated, and now it would take another age to work up her courage.

"Lessa..." he whispered. Two of his three fingers were placed under her chin, lifting it slightly. For once, she was crying uncontrollably. The tears she couldn't stop dripped onto his hands. She had always been able to stop crying, or even better, not start, but every thing that had ever made her feel sad or guilty was now floating on the surface of her mind, painfully clear. Garrus knelt next to her, and took her into his arms.

She sobbed against his armored chest, letting herself to be cradled. Commander Shepard was quiet, now, and although she'd take over in a while, she allowed Lessa to cry.

"I'm just...so...tired, Garrus..."

He turned her face up. "Shepard, you can't _ever_ stop trying. Too many people need you."

She looked up into his small, raptor-like eyes. He understood. He really, truly understood what it felt like to be so...split to want to go the easy way out. He had had ten people die under him. She had had more. Yet through their differences, it was the same feeling. He understood, too, that the rest of the galaxy needed her, really needed her, because their great symbol of the war couldn't die now. She was their hope, the body in which they put everything they ever wanted for the future. She gulped down her tears, and nodded, taking his hand in hers. He was silent, and she thanked him for that. She needed time, but she knew she would come back here in future years, with only flowers in her hand.

For the first time, the need of millions wasn't a burden. It was a gift. For the first time since she had seen batarian ships on the horizon, she felt free.

_...But how can I leave them after it all_

_When they need me to answer their call_

_I'll stay for them and I'll stay for me_

_And if once again they asked me to lead_

_To head the attack and to beat their enemy..._

_God only knows..._

_God knows I'd agree._

_**AUTHORS' NOTE: **_Yup, I wrote the poem/intro-outro. Just so that's cleared up. Guess I don't have to put any credits for something I wrote.

Hope you enjoyed!


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